


All this torture will unwind

by iyeetthereforeiam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Scene, Angst and Tragedy, Battle of the Department of Mysteries, Ficlet, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:55:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27193414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iyeetthereforeiam/pseuds/iyeetthereforeiam
Summary: Sirius is dead and Harry has all the tools he needs to make Bellatrix pay.Or ; what could have happened when Harry went after Bellatrix at the Ministry.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	All this torture will unwind

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song Left Behind from FNAF  
> « I was left behind / All this torture will unwind / I was never all that kind / If you were to rewind / Then you would find / I was left behind »  
> So this is super short cuz I wanted to try 'spontaneous' writing...its not my forte

Harry’s been following the mad, shrill cackles and sung taunts of “I killed Sirius Black” bouncing off the walls around him and echoing in his head, deafening all else. Ahead of him, he sees Bellatrix skipping into the Atrium, twirling around in her decaying gown that tells of past glory and lost wealth, laughing uncontrollably as she jerks her arms around, the dark wand she holds moving from the beginning gesture of a spell to another without managing to cast anything.

Harry feels as if he is burning, though from his rage or from his magic he cannot tell. Probably both. 

The Dark Lord himself could waltz in with a tutu right at this moment, and Harry would not care. His whole world has narrowed down to the insane witch in front of him, his wand, and the dangerous little word waiting on the tip of his tongue. 

Bellatrix pulls her tongue out at him and as she turns away from him, Harry bellows what he knows to be unforgivable, what he knows will stain his soul forever.

“Crucio!”

The witch falls in a heap with a cut-off gasp, and lays buried in her rags silently shaking. The boy has the time to take two steps forward before she throws her head back and whoops in delight. She turns to him, still laying on the floor, and looks at him with shining grey eyes and a demented smile, a perfect reflection of a dead godfather. 

She rasps out through breathless giggles “You have to mean it, baby Potty. You have to want it! Do you want the pain, itsy little baby” she sings.

Harry, who stands in the halls of the Ministry, _his_ Ministry, that should uphold their laws and protect their kin, who’s known only deceit and malice from the very entity that is supposed to be neutral and keep them from such things; whose hand holds a wand, and a scar, words he carved in his own skin under the diligent eyes of a woman entrusted with his safety and education; who had flown here only accompanied by other schoolchildren, because adults, no matter how well-meaning, always failed, always failed _him_ ; whose words are ignored, dismissed, belittled; whose mind is doubted, ripped apart, whose mind isn’t even his own sometimes; Harry, who has failed this time, who has failed his only family, who’s _killed his own godfather_ ; who has been sharing dreams with the Dark Lord for a year, who knows his anger as well as his own, and his bloodthirst, and the enjoyment he derives from the pain he inflict others; Harry, for whom love and kindness still feel foreign, for whom hate was the first thing he ever knew; Harry looks at Bellatrix, and whispers “ _Crucio_ ”.

This time, she screams. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting on ao3. Please let know what you think, if you enjoyed it, if you think the tags are off...Anyway have a nice day thanks for reading!!


End file.
